Sunny Flower
by 18 Doses
Summary: [MUFUU] A sunflower. Weren't they supposed to be big, bright, and beautiful? Mugen supposed that Fuu might fit into one of those categories. [a look at what might've happened if Mugen had been the only help Fuu recieved]


**Pairing: **Fuu and Mugen

**Warning(s): **This fic involves Mugen…what kind of warnings do you NOT expect?

**Summary: **A sunflower. When he had met her, that's what she'd been going by. When he had saved her, that's what she told him, more or less, that she was after. The Sunflower Samurai. The Sunny flower. Weren't they supposed to be big, bright, and beautiful? Mugen supposed that maybe, just maybe, Fuu fit into one of those categories.

**Note: **The scene you are about to read is actually **not the opening for this fanfiction**. The first scene is very smutty, so, to keep myself from being reported, I cut it out and posted it to **my Livejournal**. You want to read it, go check it out. **I highly suggest you do**, for more insight and info that you will miss if you don't…**but only if you're mature enough**. The link is in my profile.

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**Sunny Flower**

_By 18 Doses_

**Chapter One – **Number Three

(For those of you who don't read Author's Notes, go to my livejournal for the actual first scene)

They went by numbers at the Kuchki brothel. So far, he had counted to five. Three was still bothering him, though.

He had been stuck in Kuchki for a little over a month. It wasn't that he was trapped, per say, no, he was staying of his own freewill. But he was technically stuck, since his leaving would probably mean capture if he tried it soon. As usual, fate loved to fuck him over. The Shogunate had found the village and was also staying. He was stuck. Stuck and tormented, and this was a deadly combination when combined with dunk and frustrated.

Tossing the empty sake container over the side of the fence, Mugen coughed into his hand and looked up at the quarter moon. It made his head spin to look up, but he continued to do so anyway. He soon found himself lost in thought.

He had been visiting the brothel everyday, besides the previous night, since earning a bundle of Yen from the inn owner. Squandering his cash, in other words. Booze was also purchased recently. Hell, he figured he didn't have anything better to do, so why not make the best of a bad situation. Night one had been with Number Four, he couldn't remember the name she had given him. Night two was spent with Number One, who's name he wanted to forget. Night three, with Number Five, and night four with Number Two. The night before last, he seemed to be fixated on. Just could not seem to forget the small woman, who most likely wasn't a woman at all. Perhaps that was why it bothered him. He did have his limits and morals, contrary to popular belief.

But it was done and over with, and for all he knew, she was just malnourished.

Rubbing his hands together, Mugen lowered his eyes and then cracked his neck. Yawning, he began his walk through the pot-hole village. It was an eye sore to even the mangiest of dogs. He wondered when the Shogunate would get tired of waiting around. They needed to get lost. It wasn't like they were going to catch him anyway, he was far to sly for that.

A cat yowled in the distance, setting off a round of more animal calls. Grumbling, Mugen glared back over his shoulder. The animals in Kuchki were just as bad as the civilians. Annoying and hideous. And they weren't friendly or competent, form what he could see.

Mugen stopped walking in the middle of the alleyway, looking ahead with narrowed eyes as he listened to the noises. The yowling, the bustling people ahead at the red light district, and the tapping coming from the roof-top. It was kind of like dripping water, but far too dense since the roof was tin. He took a few steps forward with perked ears. The tapping seemed to stop. He figured he was just growing paranoid.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he continued on, stopping ever so often when the tapping would pick up. It seemed to be growing distant, so he supposed that he was being paranoid after all. Likely, the tapping was footsteps of a stray.

Once he left the alleyway, Mugen grinned. Before him were nearly twenty buildings, all of which made up the red light district. He stuffed his hands under the hem of his pants and waltzed on, making his way over to the largest of the buildings. The small village may have been a dump, but it consisted mostly of his favorite past-times, so he supposed it wasn't so bad. That could've just been the booze talking, though.

He rapped on the door and then stepped back to await the manager. They would fuss about his sword, this time. He was sure of that. They'd done so every time, but he had managed to worm the weapon in, anyway. However, they would make sure it would not happen this time. Mugen figured that the white men had probably wizened up by now. Didn't mean he wasn't planning to try, though.

The door opened, creaking loudly. Mugen tilted his chin up at the manager.

"Back again, I see," the owner said, smirking. "I trust you've got some money?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," Mugen shrugged. He disliked the blonde man. The assistant, Dante, wasn't so bad, but the Englishman really irked him.

"Come on in, then."

He walked Mugen over to the counter and moved behind it, bending to pull out the box filled with drawn pictures of the women he sold. The photos were liars, so Mugen really saw no point. He knew what half of the women looked like, anyway, and doubted the rest were any better. Maybe worse.

The manager coughed into his hand and then slid the box forward, telling Mugen to take his pick. Mugen did so. He reached in carelessly and pulled out the first piece of paper he felt. Without looking it over, he laid it on the countertop.

"Awfully careless of you," the manager said. "You act as though you don't care who you end up with." Chuckling, he picked up the picture and arched a brow. "This one again," he mumbled. Flipping it towards Mugen, he shook it to catch the islander's attention. "You want to make sure, don't you?"

"Yeah, whatever," Mugen yawned. The truth was, he was simply bored. It was either get laid, or sleep off his drunkenness at the inn. Getting laid just sounded a bit more fun. He glanced at the picture. His brow knitted, and he sighed. "Damn."

"Want another?"

"Give me that box."

The manager chuckled as Mugen dug through the pictures yet again. He cupped his hands in front of him when he had finished, and looked down at the picture laid before him. "You didn't look at this one, either," he commented.

Mugen scratched at his neck. "It's not like it matters. The women don't look anything like that. Well, most of them; a couple might come kinda close," he said, leaning on the counter with his elbow. "Kinda. So who'd I get?"

"Three."

His stomach turned a little. Her? Of all ten choices, he had pulled her picture. Exhaling loudly, he picked the picture back up and glared. She had been on his mind, and just when he had thought she was out of it, there she was again. Tapping his fingers, he looked back up at the manager. He sat the picture back down and asked, "Hey, how old is this one, anyway?"

"Hm?" The manager cocked his head. "It's funny, you're the first to ask me that," he said.

"Well?"

"I'm not positive," he told him, sea-sawing his hand. "Legal, if that tells you anything. It's all she told me when she showed up."

Mugen looked down, eyeing the picture. If she was legal, then he didn't feel so bad. Still, though he didn't want her as his pick. She was good, but that look she had been giving him before he'd left gave him a feeling that he didn't quite like. She had been thinking something, plotting. He knew the look all too well, and he didn't want the trouble of hearing her plea for a savior. He began to pluck through the box yet again. This time, he pulled out the picture of number Six.

"That one?" the manager asked.

"Yeah."

-

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The woman rolled over on the mattress, lazily laying her arm across her eyes. She yawned and stretched, disturbing Mugen's sound sleeping. He cracked his eyes open, blinking the sleep away. His eyes came to focus and he stared at the wall. His eyes slowly trailed up, coming to rest on the barred window. They widened jus as slowly when he saw the sunlight peeking over the mountaintops.

"Shit," he spat. "Why didn't you wake me the fuck up?" Grumbling, he rolled from the bed, wrestling with the blankets, and finally managing to reach his shorts, which he slipped on quickly. Bending to pick his shirt up, he saw that the woman was scowling as she pulled the covers back over herself.

"It's not my job to wake up the customer," she quipped. "You shouldn't have fallen asleep before we could have sex."

His brow twitched and he pulled the shirt over his head. It was backward, but he didn't care. Glaring at her, he flipped her the bird and slipped on his sandals. "Fuck you, bitch," he snapped. "If you knew how to get a man going, it wouldn't have happened. Toss me my jacket."

"Get it yourself."

He growled and stepped over her, delighting at the fact that her eyes went wide for a second. He put his jacket on and walked from the room without so much as a wave goodbye.

Deciding that the women sucked around Kuchki, Mugen slinked along the wall. He hoped not to be noticed. He had already paid for three ours worth with a woman he hadn't bedded, and he was certainly not going to pay for a whole night!

Hearing heavy footfalls approaching him, Mugen quickly looked for a safe place to conceal himself. The door behind him seemed the quickest way to go. He hurried to shut himself in. With his ear pressed to the door, he listened for the steps to pass; they rounded the corner, walking by his hiding place, and entered into the room he had just left. Cursing under his breath, Mugen listened to the voices. It was the Englishman. He sounded angry, with every right to be. Mugen heard him fussing with the woman. She deserved a good verbal thrashing, Mugen thought. Of course, she needed it to be about the right things. Like her horrible seduction skills, and lack of femininity. Plus, she was horribly rude. However, she seemed to be getting yelled at over Mugen's 'escape.'

Mugen frowned as the sound of skin-to-skin contact echoed through the quite halls. The woman would certainly have a bruise from the smack. It wasn't his problem, though.

He held his breath as the manager stormed past his room, letting it out quietly when he heard the man walking back down the stairs. So far he was in the clear.

Lifting up on the door, Mugen slipped back out. He stood still in the hall for a moment, making sure he was safe. He could hear Number Six sobbing from her room. Scowling, he pressed himself against the wall again and slink further away. The crying became distant, much to his pleasure, and he soon found himself at the end of the hall, facing a turn into another. He knew the hall before him; had walked it just a few nights ago.

Swallowing, he listened for the owners' voices. The coast was clear, and he knew that there was a back door at the end of the next hall. He could see it, actually. If he could just sneak out the back, then he would be free. They would not see his face in this dump again, lest he owe them money.

Deciding to risk a run, Mugen darted for the back door. The sound of a woman's begging stopped him. His brows knitted when he looked to a door painted over with a number. There nothing special about the painted number, aside from it's place on the number line. Number Three. Damn, she was every fucking where.

"Dumb broad," Mugen mumbled.

He took a step forward, but stopped again when her begging grew louder, followed by the sound of a slap. The second one he had heard so early in the morning. He supposed her customer liked to get mean with his women. He knew the type. Really, though, the guy should at least listen to a woman if she said no to his kink. But it wasn't Mugen's problem. Right now, he needed to leave. And once he was out of there, he would return to the inn, gather his things, and leave the village. The Shogunate, with any luck, would not catch sight of him.

Rushing forward, he barged out the door. He could hear the yells coming from the third-floor window, and glanced up. It was Dante. The black man looked pissed, more so than the other man sticking his head out of the window. Laughing, Mugen waved and then began to run off yet again.

He jumped up onto stacked boxes, clinging to a windowsill as some of them tumbled down. Soon the whole stack had scattered, and he quickly swung himself up onto the rooftop. He looked back at the brothel and watched the Englishman and Dante point up and yell. Laughing to himself, he turned and began to run for the inn. He hoped that they wouldn't alert the authorities, because it would mean trouble for him.

Jumping down from the roof, he darted past the shacks that the immigrants called homes, and then through the market. He had managed to knock over a fish stand and a woman carrying her child before he reached the inn. Panting, he looked over his shoulder. No one was following him, and I they were, they were far off. Wetting his lips, he went inside his room, latching the door behind him.

If Dante and the Englishman did catch up to him, they wouldn't know what room he was in, or if he was at the inn in the first place, so he was in the clear for now.

Flopping down on the mattress, Mugen ran his hands through his hair. He continued to catch his breath, staring up at the ceiling. Once he was calmed, he sat back up and looked over at his things. He carried a small knapsack. It had a thin blanket, what was left of his money, and a rolled up sheet of tarnished paper inside. Besides that, he could leave the sake he had purchased, grab his sword, and be off. He was set.

Mugen blinked. Then blinked again.

"Oh fuck!" he moaned.

He had left his sword at the brothel.

Kicking the air, he jumped to his feet. Mugen knew he had to get out of Kuchki, He had no choice now that he had 'dined and dashed.' The brothel manager had, or would, contact the authorities. The village was full of immigrants, but it was still legal, since the so-called governor had stricken a deal with the Shogunate. It all set Mugen in a bad position. Not only were the Shogunate on good terms with most people in Kuchki, they were also the first people that Dante and the Englishman would run to. So, stuck without his weapon, Mugen was a sitting duck.

Dante had witnessed him pull the money from the pouch the innkeeper had given him, on that first night. Therefore, they knew where he was staying after all, he now realized. If they were to inform the Shogunate of his deed at the brothel, then they would surely know that he was who they were after, and then, if Dante told of the inn, then the Shogunate would be hot on his trail. He couldn't stay at the inn a moment longer.

Mugen grabbed the knapsack, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped back outside. He looked around and saw that he was clear. Trying to decide what to do, he figured that he would probably be able to get another sword; however, if he should run into the Shogunate before getting away from the village, then he would be screwed without his weapon. Stealing one of theirs would be easy, he guessed, but then again, one should never take the chance if they could avoid it. He would have to go back and get the sword. If he was lucky, the owners were out chasing after him, so he would be able to get in and get out.

Surely one of them had remained there, though. If that was the case, then he was still doing fine. Yeah. He was going to go for it.

Careful not to make such a scene as he had getting to the inn, Mugen speed walked to the brothel. It didn't take long, and when he had it in his sight, he stopped. Mugen pressed himself against the wall, hidden within the shadows of the alleyway. The sun had finally risen. He took a deep breath and rushed forward. He ran to the back of the building, standing below the winding staircase that went up to the back door. He figured going through the second floor down was his best bet. Mainly the customers and women were on that floor, which would mean he could avoid a confrontation by any of the men who worked there. There were only three of them, so one was his only problem, and that guy was a wimp. Still, he would try to avoid a fight for now.

Slinking up the stairs, he entered. The hall was quiet aside from distant moaning. Looking around, Mugen tiptoed forward. Safe. He picked up the pace, walking by each room. When he got to the first-floor flight of steps, he stopped to look behind him. Nothing. No sounds came from the first floor, either, so he pressed on.

His sword was standing by the front door. Letting out a breath of relief, he picked it up and placed it over his shoulder, fitting it beside of the knapsack.

Clearing his throat, he reached for the doorknob. Going out the front would be fine, he thought, since he now had what he needed to mow down anyone who might pop up. He didn't want to run into anyone, though…but he doubted anyone would pop up out front.

He was wrong.

There, across the street, stood Dante. The man yelled, grabbing the attention of a group of samurai. The Shogunate. Mugen would know them anywhere. Spitting a curse, he slammed and locked the door. Footsteps were rushing towards him from upstairs, and he knew that he was about to face the third worker. Pulling his sword out, Mugen ran forward. The man met him at the top of the stairs, standing with his own sword extended. He was shaking like a leaf.

Scowling, Mugen charged. The blade shot out, knocking the man's sword into the wall. I stuck there, bobbing up and down as Mugen cut across the man's shoulder. The third owner yelled out, holding the stub that was left of his arm. He was in too much of a shock to realize, much less stop him, as Mugen ran his sword through his chest, pulling it out, and then slinging his dying body.

Mugen stepped aside and watched the body tumble down the steps, leaving a trail of blood. He stepped over the arm and jerked the sword from the wall. He stuck the sword into his sheath, collecting, and then ran down the hall. He stopped at the corner and looked back, and then ran forward a bit more.

They were trying to get through the front door. He could hear them banging against it, and then he finally hear the sound of cracking wood, followed by the entrance of all men.

"Fuck!" he hissed. Running down the last hall, he thought of going straight for the exit, but stopped when two men barged through. He was cornered. Going back would throw him right into the arms of men running up the stairs. Growling, he looked over at the door beside of him. Number Three. He heard her rustling about inside. She was most likely freaking out over all the commotion, and she did not seem to have a 'guest.'

"Stay right where you are!" someone called out from behind.

Mugen glared at the door.

"Put down your weapon!"

"Step away and place your hands against the wall!"

Still glaring, Mugen began to chuckle. Never had he felt so trapped. Even on the island, before he had flung himself over the cliff, he had not felt like this. He supposed it had something to do with the closed in space. Smirking, he began to put his arm out to the side.

"That's right," one of the men in front of him said, shaking as he held his gun out, "put down that sword and—"

Mugen flung the curved sword forward. It met with the first man's head, cutting him off before he could finish speaking, and then glided through to hack into the other man's neck. He fell to his knees scream just as the other man from behind fired. They missed. Mugen dropped to his back and kicked at Number Three's door. He managed to be grazed by only one bullet. Bending himself, he flipped to his feet before the men could come at him. He ran into the room.

Number Three was screaming, holding up a vase to defend herself.

"Get over here, bitch!" Mugen yelled as he grabbed her by the arm. He twisted her around him, using her as his shield. They would not shoot her, he was positive.

The men stopped in the doorway, all of them ordering him to drop the woman. He did not intend to listen, and they could see that, but they could do nothing as long as he held Number Three hostage. Shooting him, meant shooting her, and as he had suspected, they wouldn't.

"Let go!" she yelled, clawing at his arms. Her long nails dug across his skin, tearing gashes. The blood dripped down his arm, and Mugen scowled. He brought his knee up and slammed it against the back of her thigh. She yelled out in pain.

"Stop this!" the tallest samurai yelled. His beady eyes bored into Mugen's. "You're trapped. Give up and let her go, Mugen!"

"Fuck you!" he spat. The woman's sobbing was beginning to irritate him, but he tried his best to ignore it and think of a way to escape. It was possible to run with her in his grip, threatening to wring her neck if they didn't step aside, but Mugen doubted they would go for that. He supposed that he could just run at them with her still up front. They would avoid shooting, he hoped.

Deciding to do just that, Mugen yelled out and darted. Number Three scream in terror, clinging to him. The men looked to be at a loss. Some of them fired at the ceiling, while others rolled and jumped out of the way. His plan worked. Turning himself, he ran backwards towards the door, nearly tripping over the two bodies.

Number Three was panting and thrashing. "You—Let go of me! Please! Don't! Somebody! Help me!" She bellowed, wailed, and kicked.

Mugen snapped at her, tightening his grip around her neck until she hacked. With his free arm, he jerked his sword from one of the bodies. Looking at the men in the hall, he smirked and continued to run with Number Three held in front. The men yelled out just when he backed out the door and sailed over the edge of the two-story stairs.

Number Three screamed again, but hushed and fainted as soon as Mugen landed on his feet. Springing up from bent knees, he ran backward a bit more, glaring at the men rushing down the stair. When he finally made it around a corner, he turned around.

Now running faster, he looked down at Number Three. She was still unconscious. Mugen debated whether to throw her aside. He decided not to when he heard the men coming up behind him. It was too bad for them that he had already rushed into a crowd of people, heading for the village exit.

The end was in sight. He could see the tree tops, and then, freedom!

"Freeze!" someone yelled. A shot was fired at him.

It bit into his calf, and Mugen shouted. He nearly fell over, but managed to hobble instead, still running from the village. As he rushed down the pathway, he quickly ran into the surrounding forest. Crouching behind a tree, he watched the men run by. A few of them stopped and ran into the woods, but they also passed him and Number Three.

When he was sure they were gone, he stood up and panted loudly, looking back at his wounded leg. He would have to take care of that soon. Swallowing the pain, he looked down at Number Three.

"Damn, still out of it? How the fuck do you stay fainted through all of this?" he asked her. Shaking his head, he looked around to make sure the Shogunate men were really gone. Dante and the Englishman hadn't followed them. He supposed they thought the Shogunate would catch him and bring the woman back to the brothel. Well, they were obviously wrong.

Feeling good about himself, Mugen chuckled. He thought that he might as well leave Number Three to sit at the tree while he ran off. Wincing at the pain in his leg, he began to bend forward, trying to maneuver her less awkwardly, as well as trying not to slip on the fallen leaves. His hurt leg was giving him trouble, though.

Finally he had her down, and was about to let go of her and walk away, when the sound of a snapping twig startled him. Feeling foolish, he frowned. Sighing, he let go of Number Three with one arm.

"Eeee!"

Mugen yelped as a ball of flying fur clung to face. The fuzz-ball continued to bite at his nose before he could catch his foot.

Sailing backward, he reached out to grab the first thing he could. Unfortunately, that happened to be Number Three, and with her weight and the squirrel attacking him, he lost the battle. He went rolling down the steep cliff.

The squirrel let him go and flew upward just before he hit the bottom.

Groaning, Mugen grimaced and tried to lift himself up a bit. He opened his eyes, only to be met a set of wide, brown orbs, spilling over with tears. He knitted his brow. What the hell was her problem? Surely wasn't so scared that she was crying _now_.

But then he noticed. His brow smoothened and he looked down between them. Number Three whimpered, her shaky hands, gripping the his shoulders. The warmth spreading over his knee was spilling onto the leaves below them. Mugen gulped.

His sword had somehow missed him in the fall, only to roll in front of them and wedge itself deep within the groove of a hole and a stone. The tip of it left out to the surface (which could not have been more then three inches, or else he would be bleeding also) had pierced into the woman's back.

"Oh shit," he whispered, quickly getting off of her. With widened eyes, Mugen looked over her. He wasn't sure what he should do. She was still very much alive; she just seemed to be in a great deal of pain. Of course, if he just left her like this, she'd be dead long before the evening. He wasn't normally one to care what happened to anyone besides himself, however, the last thing he needed was for one of the Shogunate who had passed him, to find her like this. She could tell them which way he had gone once, and if, she lived through it. And he couldn't have that. They would track him down in no time, since the next village was at least three days away. There was no way he could make it sooner, not with a bad leg.

He watched the woman reach up, silently pleading for his help. Scowling, he looked her over. He did need his sword back, so either way he had to move her.

Getting down on his knees, he took a hold of her extended hand. He then grabbed her around the upper waist, no bothering to be gentle. She was in pain anyway, so she could deal with it. Pulling quickly, he brought her against him. The sword slid out in one smooth glide, and the woman screamed. A swarm of birds flew up in the air, cawing in disapproval.

Mugen looked down at her small form as she clung to him weakly. He frowned and then looked down at his bloody sword. Her blood had dripped down the entire blade, soaking into the hole. It was a tone of blood, but enough to cause her death if she wasn't treated quickly. Damned if he was going to play doctor.

Laying her aside, Mugen began to stand. He did not listen to her whimpers, and he only glanced down once before moving over to the sword. She looked scared, he noted, scared and hurt. Not his problem.

He kicked the stone aside and then reached into the hole to get his sword. Making a face as her blood covered his hands and the blade nicked him, Mugen grunted and tugged until he could grip the handle. He did so and then pulled the sword up for good, sheathing it. Clearing his throat, he casually ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped his cut hand. Once finished, he looked back at the woman. The damned squirrel was burrowing beneath her blue and purple kimono.

She was watching him and trying to sit up. Mugen glared at her.

"Don't be an idiot!" he snapped. "You move anymore and you'll lose too much blood."

A fresh stream of tears ran down her cheeks as she refused to listen to him, and sat up on her elbows. Mugen rolled his eyes. Stupid girl was going to die for sure if she didn't be still. All was quiet for a moment. They continued to look at one another, and then Mugen finally ran his hurt hand over his face and stepped towards her. Her large eyes followed him even as he leaned down and scooped her up. She whined and gripped his arm, and Mugen fussed at her, trying to position her differently as he stood back up.

He stood still for a moment, looking back at her before she gave up and rested her head against his collar bone. Rolling his eyes yet again, Mugen knew that he couldn't just leave her there. He'd figured that out before he had retrieved his sword. The problem he was faced with now, was what to do with her once they got far enough from Kuchki. He'd have to dress both of their wounds first, because he wasn't about to carry around a bleeding body, much less a dead one. After that, he wasn't sure what would happen.

He guessed he would have to know her name, though, if he was going to try and 'help' her.

"Hey," he asked, voice tired, "what's your name?"

She groaned and shook, but she did not answer him. Mugen sighed.

"Alright, fine," he said, "Number Three it is."

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**Note: **Reviews are my anti-drug. Keep me out of prison and away from the white powder? 

And remember, if you want the **actual **first scene, you'll have to go to my LJ. The link is in my profile. If it doesn't work, just go to _18doses . livejournal . com_

Remove the spaces, of course.

Oh, and for those of you still waiting for me to update any one of my other fics, I promise that an update to one of them is coming very VERY soon. Tomorrow, most likely.


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